Constant Apocalypse
by orsumfenix
Summary: The world ends on a Tuesday (and it doesn't stop there).


_**Like the last thing I wrote for Lorien Legacies (This Broken Heart), I seriously don't know where this came from. I started about a month ago and only really got around to finishing it now. **_

_**Um... I'd like to mention that if anyone has a request, feel free to ask, though I'll probably take a while writing it and there's no guarantees that I'll write what you have in mind. But, like I said, feel free to ask and I'll do my best. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Lorien Legacies, I just wish I do. **_

The world ends on a Tuesday.

To many people, it's simply an ordinary day. They go about their business, complaining about their homework and gossiping about the affair between their co-workers (co-workers that were _supposed _to hate each other) and watching the latest reports on the local news station. The Earth is spinning, the sun is shining, the birds are tweeting, and it doesn't feel like the end of the world.

Not to them, at least.

But, hundreds of miles away from where two bodies lie jerking and shuddering, fighting an internal battle, a mental war, five people stand witness to the end of the world.

One is a kind orphan, who has been lonely all her life, but has kept on going for the sake of the people that she _does _know. She is perhaps the one that understands the gravity of the situation the most, the one who will be the most affected by it.

The next is the strong warrior girl, who has set up barriers around herself in order to prevent anyone from getting too close (though it hasn't been working too well, lately). She is barely coherent, lying on the floor and trying to get a hold of what's actually going on.

The third is a boy who likes to think that he's the best, that he's made of steel, that nothing can possibly stop him. He, too, will feel the true force of the end of the world, but it will be nothing compared to the other.

Another is a false god, someone who has been worshipped by an entire _country _before, with many listening to his will simply because of what he looks like. It makes him guilty, and he's moved on from that now, but it will stay with him to the end of his days (which is horribly, terribly soon).

The last, and definitely least, is the betrayer. The Judas to their Jesus (_lying miles away, shaking and twitching and wishing for help_), the one who will trick and deceive them. He is the doombringer. He will end the world.

It's a Tuesday, and the end of the world could so easily be prevented. The land is still, silent around them, almost as though it can sense what is coming. A slight breeze rustles though the trees. The water close by laps by the edge of the dirt. A weeping figure sits on the ground, wondering why it had to go this way.

Four words are spoken.

"_Crying like a girl." _

Then there is no stopping it – the betrayer rushes forward, fuelled with anger and desperation and hate, ready to kill his tormentor, to make himself the victor in this stupid, stupid game. He aims for the chest, the place where he can reach and cause damage and make that heart go slower and slower until it stops. His sword glows from the light in the sky.

But it never reaches its intended target.

Instead of reaching the boy of steel, a false god moves into the way, trying to bite back a scream as the sword rams into his heart, punctures the muscle around it, sends his body into a freeze-mode and sends pain rushing through his chest.

He doesn't speak – just holds his hands out towards the girl, his love (_"Tell her you love her, TELL HER!"_), and falls to the ground.

His heart stops beating, his pulse stops thumping, and the breath just fades away.

The world ends on a Tuesday, and most people never even know.

* * *

_She's been here before. _

* * *

Five becomes three, and a new trio is born. Amongst that trio, one becomes haunted by what has passed. It's her own personal apocalypse, and no one could possibly know how bad it is.

She's gotten her revenge, torn away something held dear to the betrayer (_pain, pain and more pain as blood gushes out of an empty socket_), but all she feels is empty. The world has ended, so why does it keep on moving? Why do the people far, far away keep gossiping and flirting and running when nothing's ever going to be the same again?

It is silent as they leave. No tears are shed, no weeping is heard, no shouts of anger echo. There is just the continuous sound of breathing (but he's never going to breathe again) and the footsteps of people running, and the world remains still and silent. It is in mourning for what has been lost, as everyone else should be.

She is affected, and he is affected, but the third seems fine, unaware of the tragedy that has passed, indifferent to what an effect this should have on her. The orphan cannot help but get angry at her, for the world has ended and yet she is able to go on.

"That's what you have to do," the normally tough girl whispers, eyes uncharacteristically soft and words gently spoken. "You just have to keep on going, even if it breaks your heart to do so."

Her heart is already broken, though, and this is just the aftermath. She's living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and no one seems to understand that her very reason for living has ceased to do so.

The world died on a Tuesday, and she died with it.

* * *

_She's been here before. _

_It's dark, and the moon is full and bright, and she can only watch as he twirls in the dark shadows of the night and they threaten to consume him. He looks exactly the same as she last saw him – the same eyes, the same hair, even the same smile. He smiles at her warmly as he twizzles, the moonlight reflecting on his face and making him look beautiful. _

_She reaches forward to try and rescue him, to bring him back with her, but he scoots ever-so-slightly out of her reach. She tries again, and again, but each go is a failed attempt, and she can only watch as he gets further and further away. _

_The shadows consume him, and he is gone. _

* * *

It isn't the end of the world as they meet up with the others. It isn't the end of the world when she meets the saviour (destroyer, he used to be a destroyer, but he was blessed with a gift, and now he is the saviour). It isn't the end of the world when everyone shoots her sympathetic looks and offers their condolences. It still _somehow _isn't the end of the world when they tell her that the little girl (the pure, sweet, _innocent_) little girl is gone. It isn't the end of the world when she realises that she's the only one there who has no one.

It _is _the end of the world when they try and organise a funeral.

Because holding a funeral would be – would be like accepting he was dead, like saying that they're all willing to move on and pretend like it… like _he _never even existed.

And that's just one thing that she can't stand the thought of.

So she yells at them. She yells and screams and shouts and cries, letting all her frustration and fury and anger from that day come spilling out and directed at _them_. She can't bare it, can't _bare _it that the one she loved has been ripped and torn away from her without even giving her a choice in the matter, without even letting him say _goodbye_. She can't stand it that she's never going to see him again, never going to get to say the things that she's always wanted to say and he's never going to know just how much he _meant _to her.

The world ended on Tuesday, so why does it feel like the apocalypse all over again?

But, despite her multiple objections, the others go ahead and hold a _funeral_ for him. They burn eight candles, each of them going up and saying something about him, something that they admired, something that made him such a good friend (when he was so much more than that). Few people know that he's gone, and even fewer attend the funeral (which is held in some beat up motel room), but the people he cared for are there, and that's what matters (but the little girl, the little girl is gone, the little girl is gone, gone, gone, she isn't here, she's _gone_).

When it gets to her turn to say something, the lonely, kind orphan simply says what the others did not – while the others talked about his heroic sacrifice and positive outlook and friendly nature, she talks about the _bad _things. She says about how he was always _too _trusting, about how that almost got him killed before. She talks about how naïve he could be, how unaware of life he was. She says about how he dragged her off into Chicago that time, telling only one person (that person is gone, gone, gone – gone, just like him). She mentions all the bad things, not the good (because that would just be too painful), and how she hated him for all of those horrible, stupid, reckless things.

"But that's also why I loved him," she states, ignoring the looks of shock clearly painted on people's faces for what she has chosen to say. "And I'm never going to forget him."

The world ended on Tuesday, but that doesn't mean she has to face that.

She sits down to whispers and worried glances. The funeral (a quiet, sad affair, a poor excuse for a funeral (and they don't even have a body to burn)) is finished off by a flustered-looking boy, the one who's supposed to be the most powerful of all of them, the one who was asleep and useless at the end of the world. He says a brief thank you to everyone for attended, carefully avoiding her eyes, before asking them all to put the candles out, instead of burying or burning the non-existent body.

Everyone (there's eight of them, and eight candles to extinguish) uses a blanket to smother one, until finally it's left to her to kill the final flame. It dances to elegantly and beautifully (just like him, in a way), catching her interest and making her stare at it sadly.

The saviour passes her the blanket and, after much hesitation, she places it over the flame and made it go out.

The world already ended on Tuesday, but it ends again on Saturday.

* * *

_She's been here before. _

_It doesn't get any brighter, but the moon has gotten rounder, if that's possible. __**He **__is still there, smiling at her sweetly, beckoning for her to join him, moving away as she gets closer, forever just out of her reach, too far away for her fingers to grasp. _

_She chases him this time, moves closer and desperately attempts to keep up with him as he elegantly slides away, sad smile ever present on his face. _

_It feels like she's always trying to catch up to him. _

* * *

Much as she expected, the others begin to move on after the funeral. Most of them never knew him that well, anyway, and he was just a tragedy that has been deemed acceptable.

The only ones that still seem to _care _are her and the boy who was once made of steel. He was once great, strong, mighty, but the guilt has just piled and piled on top of him until he finally snaps and tries to leave.

"I'm going," he states coldly as she latches onto his wrist, looking at him with big blue eyes and a pitiful expression. The others can't stop him, the two of them are meant to be on guard duty, which means it's up to her to make him stay. "I can't – I can't _do _this anymore. I'm going, and you can't stop me."

She's already lost so much – she's lost so, so much, and he's the last thing she has, the only one who doesn't want to just move on and forget, the only other one who _truly _witnessed the end of the world.

"I'm not going to stop you," she whispers, looking at his long black hair and big bulging muscles and deep, hollow eyes. "I'm going to come with you."

The two leave the others, and they are also leaving the survivors of the apocalypse, the ones that made it through whole.

* * *

_She's been here before. _

_This time she's close to him, closer to him than before. His grin is different, teasing. He __**wants **__her to get closer to him this time, to be __**so close **__without actually getting to touch him. _

_She raises her hand, trying to __**finally **__reach him, just once. _

_He doesn't move away this time – he smiles softly. _

_Her fingers brush his face as the shadows reach him, and he is gone. _

_Her hand falls. _

* * *

The world ended on Tuesday, but now it feels as though it's falling down around her.

The boy of steel finds her crying one night in their crappy motel room, the pools of water running down her cheeks.

"Is it about _him_?" he asks, and all she can do is nod because _of course _it's about him, it's _always _about him and it's _only ever _been about him.

(And now, she's sure, everything is always going to remain about him.)

The boy doesn't speak – he sits down on the cold, hard floor beneath her and holds in his arms, silent, looking as though he's about to cry himself, and it's not going to be okay, not for a long time, but right now it's enough. It's enough just having _company_, and just having someone who _understands _what it's like to lose everything (to lose every_one_).

A hysterical scream bubbles up in her throat, clawing to get out and be released and let the world know of the pain that she's feeling, but somehow she manages to keep it down.

(There's a huge, gaping hole in her heart, where it's been torn open and shredded by one she used to call a friend, and betrayal hurts more than it should do.)

(_He _wouldn't want her to be sad.)

(But _he _isn't here.)

* * *

_She's been here before. _

_She desperately tries, but she can never quite reach him. _

* * *

They don't do much, really. They don't have plans – they just run into battles and slaughter as many of the destroyers as they can. She laughs maniacally, ignoring the weird look the boy shoots her, enjoying it as she reaps her vengeance.

They will suffer her wrath as she tears them apart, limb from limb, particle by particle.

(She ignores the phantom presence by her side, shouting _(screaming) _at her to stop, that this isn't right and she needs to get a grip on herself.

Why should she listen to someone who's dead?)

The two of them, they manage to take out _so many _together, just them, and it's bittersweet, because maybe if their parents had done this on Lorien then they wouldn't have been in this situation.

But then she would never have met _him_.

She can't decide which would be worse – losing him, or never even knowing him at all.

She asks the boy of steel one day, when they've just taken down an entire _base _in their fury.

"I think," he says slowly, seeming to consider the question fully. (He's thinking about dark hair, cars, betrayal and a desperate cry for help.) "That if you never knew him, then you'd never know what you're missing."

She doesn't know how she's supposed to respond to that, so she doesn't. She just closes her eyes and thinks of better times, when her heart was still whole (and _his _was literally whole, too).

* * *

_She's been here before. _

_She can't catch up to him. _

* * *

The world just keeps on ending.

* * *

_She's been here before. _

* * *

The world ends on a Tuesday, but it doesn't stop there.

**_Thanks for reading, and I really do appreciate reviews! _**


End file.
